


After-Image

by backseatoftheimpala



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brothers AU, Inspired from Mycroft and Sherlock's interactions, Muggle Harry, Prime Minister Tom Riddle, no Voldemort AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 17:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10576233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backseatoftheimpala/pseuds/backseatoftheimpala
Summary: Prime Minister Tom Riddle has a secret: his brother Harry Riddle is a muggle, and he just came to visit.





	

Sometimes he would come on New Year’s eve, sitting by the fire with his maroon umbrella rested beside the armrest. There is always an air of calmness in him, his tone never raised nor waivered, his face a splitting image of his own. 

Or rather, Tom is a splitting image of /him/. It is such a shame, he thought, such a shame indeed that the man sitting in front of him is born a without magic in his blood. 

 

* * *

“Dear brother,” His voice resonated across his study. Tom waved his hand, sending his secretary away. His secretary bowed dutifully and left. 

The room was eerily silent after the door was closed.

Tom forced a smile, “Brother mine, to what do I owe you the pleasure..?” 

His voice was too velvety and faux; people in the Ministry would fall for it, but certainly not his brother. 

“And so I heard that you became the most powerful man in England.” His voice was clipped. Tom eyed his brother producing The Daily Prophet from his suit’s pocket. 

“ ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle elected as The Prime Minister of England.’ Isn’t this such a wonderful news, dear brother?” He smiled, their eyes meeting. 

Tom stared back at those green eyes— Avada Kedavra green— trying to find a motive behind his visit. It certainly isn’t his birthday, or their parent’s death anniversary, to be exact. 

It also wasn’t Harry Riddle’s birthday. Tom walked closer, conjuring a chair facing his brother by the fireplace. If Harry is impressed, he didn’t show it. 

“I’m very sorry to not inform you, brother mine. It’s just that matters of the Wizarding World doesn’t really concern you, does it?” He replied smoothly. 

“Does your secretary know about this?” Harry changed the subject, crossing his legs and averting his gaze to the fire. 

Tom fixed an innocent look, “That I have a Muggle for a big brother? She does not have a clue.” 

His green eyes met his. Tom took this chance to properly compare his brother’s features to his. High cheekbones, black curls, and a sharp jaw line. Everything is similar, except for their eyes. 

Tom has always envied how Harry’s shone bright green like the Unforgivable spell, while his is a reflection of the dark gray skies of London. A quirk on his brother’s countenance snaps him back to reality. 

“Ah, how rude of me. Should I call for some tea? Refreshments? Gibby!” 

A house elf popped and bowed so low that its nose touched the floor. “Master Riddle asked for Gibby?” 

“Bring in some tea and refreshments.” Tom ordered, and the house elf popped into thin air. 

Soon after, Gibby reappeared with a tray of refreshments and tea. Tom could tell that Gibby is too excited to serve another Master Riddle, evident from the unusual clumsiness it shows. 

“Thank you, Gibby.” It was a sincere gratitude coming from Harry, and Tom watched in horror as Gibby’s eyes went wide. 

“Master does not need to thank Gibby! Gibby would give anything Master Riddle’s guest asked for!” It’s ears batted with excitement, taking a step closer to his brother. Tom had to clear his throat for Gibby to retreat to its station, its legs trembling from fear.

“Gibby is sorry! Gibby wouldn’t do that in the future! Gibby will listen to Master Riddle!” It banged its head to the wall over and over, muttering ‘Stupid Gibby’ on each interval. 

“Enough!” Tom roared. Gibby cowered in fear, its eyes casted down. Tom glanced at his brother. Clear confusion and surprise was shown in his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line. Passive. 

“Brother mine, would you like to give out the orders instead?” Tom offered. Its eyes trailed from the floor to his brother, eyeing his brother in both awe and horror. 

“Let the poor creature go, Tom.” Harry finally spoke. Tom was taken by surprise, yet it was quickly dissolved. “Ah brother, that doesn’t happen in the Wizarding World.” 

His eyebrows quirked, “So you condone abuse and slavery?” 

Tom was quick to respond, “Brother mine, things work differently in the Wizarding World. You see, this creature is a house elf. It willingly serves me as its master.” 

Harry drank the information silently. He stood up, circling the house elf waiting for his orders. After a moment of silence, he stopped in front of the creature and kneeled down to its height. 

“Gibby, you did nothing wrong. I am very pleased with your service, now please return to your station.” 

After a thank you from the house elf, it disappeared into thin air. 

"Dear brother, it is not how you treat the poor creature.” He stood up, dusting off the dust from his pants. 

“Brother mine, I’m afraid I’m only following the existing decorum of the Wizarding World.” Tom reasoned, plastering a smile. 

“Rubbish, you could easily change it with a flick of your wand. That creature has powerful magic, you should make use of it and treat it with respect.” 

He always has the last word in. Tom watches as he took his pocket watch, a glint of surprise gracing his features. 

“Tom, I’m afraid I should leave.” He said, shoving his watch back into his pocket. 

Tom nods, “Ah yes, after all, time waits for no man.” 

Harry took a last glance at him, bowing slightly in acknowledgement. Tom did the same. The door was slammed shut unceremoniously loud soon after. 

Tom froze for a moment, his hitched breath and faux expression disappearing with each resonating steps his brother took, away from his manor.   
.  
.   
.  
.  
.  
.  
.   
.  
.  
.  
.

Harry stared at the gigantic mahogany door standing in front of him. 

Alohomora. 

It clicks open. He steps out of the Riddle Manor, carrying a letter in his suit. He had businesses to attend. 


End file.
